You are not made of nouns—
Not the one gifted properly when you were welcomed into this world,
Not the ones of convenience by those that saw you grow up,
Not the ones of ridicule for some couldn’t stand your presence,
Not the ones of adoration by those who moved your essence.

You are not made of nouns—
Not the laid out job descriptions nor what you are asked to achieve—
Not a writer or a painter; not a preacher, saint or thief,
Not the roles what society calls a father, husband or son,
Not the traits of your genetic makeup you had never agreed upon.

You are not made of nouns—
Not the ties that define your circles, your actions or your words,
Not the confines of identities that identifies your herds,
Not the characters you must carry from birth until your death,
Not the brandings you must fend with your blood, your sweat and breath.

You are not made of nouns.
In a different world you would be a different set of words.
Your name may be undefined and you would identify with the verbs.
There may not be a language, no words to make the list;
There wouldn’t be any nouns around, but you would still exist.

Notes: As of today, my website says that I am a Comics geek, Musician, Programmer, Traveller and Malfunctioning Robot. I am guilty of this. We are all guilty of this. We give names, grant roles and associate identities to people and expect them to fulfil the meanings that these arbitrary words carry. —S.B. (26.05.2020)